Thimble and Acorn
by Aspiring Shieldmaiden
Summary: Peter and Wendy still wear their respective thimble and acorn. But Wendy doesn't want to grow up,the "no adults allowed" rule in Neverland is breaking out of Peter's control, and Peter wants her back...and Peter has a certain way of getting what he wants.
1. Chapter One

Title: Acorn and Thimble

Author: Aspiring Shieldmaiden

Rating: PG-13

Book/Film: Peter Pan

Spoilers: If you haven't seen the film, there will be spoilers ahead.

Pairings: Peter/Wendy

Summary: Peter and Wendy still wear their thimble and acorn, respectively. But Wendy doesn't want to grow up and Peter wants her back…and Peter has a certain way of getting what he wants.

Chapter Updated: Tuesday, 12th October 2004.

Disclaimer: None of this is mine, except the plot.

- - - - - -

Chapter One

"Stand up straight!" Aunt Millicent barked. "Good Lord, child, you're slouching. Young ladies are _never _bent over when sitting. And _what _is that mark on your hand?"

Wendy sighed, dreading the reply, "Ink from my fountain pen, Aunt."

Sure enough, the tirade started. "I thought we agreed you had given up those barbaric ideas of being a novelist. Writing is messy, a man's job. Ladies who hope to make respectable matches steer well clear of that path. I was saying to your mother…"

The girl blocked the rest of her speech out. It was a year since the ending of her time in the nursery - a week since she had last seen Peter. She felt bored; there was none of the excitement storytelling brought with it in Becoming A Lady - Growing Up, in other words.

_Peter…_

If she shut her eyes, she could still see Neverland. She could still see the perfect blue sea lapping the shore, the darkness of the wood with its carpet of leaves; the house the Lost Boys had built for her. And clearest of all she could see Peter, sword hanging down by his side, smiling at her, laughing. If she brought her hand to her neck she felt the acorn he had given her - the "kiss". It was strange, but she could remember everything about him. She remembered everyone else who had taken part in the adventure – Captain Hook, Smee, all the Lost Boys, of course, as they were now family – but it was Peter who remained in her mind. She could remember being captured and tied up on the ship; Peter catching her as she fell down to meet the sea, and, most clearly of all, giving him her "hidden kiss". Whenever this memory surfaced, Wendy felt strangely light-headed.

"…and your mother absolutely agrees that you need more – good heavens, child, what's the matter with your face?"

Wendy's hands flew to her cheeks. "What's wrong with them?"

Aunt Millicent frowned. "I merely mention it because they are pink, dear, and a young lady certainly never enquires in that harsh tone of voice! Is that quite clear?"

"Yes, Aunt."

Mrs Darling appeared at the living-room door. "Lunch is ready," she said in her gentle voice. Wendy sometimes wondered why she had not inherited it. Why had she had to be born so apparently coarse and vulgar that, when Aunt Millicent had taken her aside so that she could begin instruction, the older woman had suppressed a shudder?

Though Wendy could not know this, the adults in the house had all noticed a profound change in her behaviour since her return. Before, Wendy had been an active child and sociable, never a loner. She no longer spent time with the rest of the family; preferring to stay in her room and, especially at night, stare out of the window, her face turned towards the stars. Her aunt was not shuddering at the prospect of teaching her. It was meeting Wendy's eyes, the restlessness in them, which she dreaded. Any person who did not know the girl would identify the expression as boredom. But that was absurd. Why should a child, who had such an excellent family, wish to be anywhere else then in the company of loved ones? On the other hand, Aunt Millicent's so-called "professional" theory that Wendy would be worn down and reformed within a fortnight was, much to her astonished confusion, proving to be mistaken. But Aunt Millicent perhaps has a right to be concerned. Her newly adopted son, Daniel (Slightly) was shaping up perfectly.

"Wendy Darling, have you heard a word I have spoken to you in the past hour?"

With a start, Wendy realised she was seated at the dining-room table, next to Aunt Millicent as usual. "Yes, of course," she said, smiling prettily.

Aunt Millicent did not look convinced. "Kindly tell me which fork one must use when eating the fish course of a meal."

Wendy racked her brains. She was _sure _she'd heard the answer to this one before. "Umm… That one," she decided, picking up a fork on the left side of the placemat.

Millicent raised her eyes to the heavens. "No, dear, I have told you this before. It's _that _one."

"Oh." Wendy blushed. "Sorry."

Mrs Darling, watching her daughter, let the conversation she was having with her husband tail off and observed Wendy's face. It looked oddly distant, as though instead of seeing the room the family was in with its wood-panelled walls, her eyes were focused on something else entirely which wasn't even nearby. Her sister had quite given up talking to her, as she showed no signs of response. When the meal had ended, Mary sidled up to the other woman.

"Wendy is progressing in her instruction, is she not?"

Millicent closed her eyes in apparent despair. "I'm beginning to think there is no hope for her."

"Surely it is not as bad as that. You must be exaggerating, Millicent, as I have known you to do on occasion," Mary said calmly, watching Millicent's lips tighten.

"I assure you it is quite the opposite. It is quite plain that she refuses to learn."

Mary Darling shook her head. "It can't be as bad as that."

Millicent sighed. "Speak to the girl yourself, if you won't take it from me. Let _her_ explain herself."

- - - - - -

Peter was fed up.

There could be a number of reasons for this. It could be because Tink, seeing him in one of his moody, quiet phases, had taken off in a sulk, refusing to answer when he called for her. Or maybe because his new group of Lost Boys were away on a hunting trip and had left without him. And maybe, too, because he was simply bored. There was nothing for him to do alone – except play his instrument. But even that was losing its appeal. It was company that Peter wanted. And not just any company, either.

Wendy's.

Peter's ideas of girls and what they were capable of had always been…pretty unfair, to tell you the truth. Not that he'd seen much of them before Wendy came along, but the glimpses of them he _had_ seen had been through bedroom windows at night when they were asleep, in rooms covered in flowers and pink wallpaper or some other light colour. They'd always looked so fragile. Pretty sexist ideas, but Peter wasn't to know this, not could he be trusted to take into account that _everyone _looks harmless and soft when asleep, himself included. But Wendy had changed all this. He'd gladly have her back. Just her, for he'd forgotten about her brothers completely. He had very hazy memories of his previous set of Lost Boys, but he couldn't remember their names, and he didn't care much about them now. They'd chosen to grow up, something Peter found hateful.

"Who wants to grow up?" he muttered angrily, wondering why he wasn't feeling perfectly content.

He also hated having to admit this one, too, but Captain Hook had been right. Now, he's kind of forgotten what the pirate looked like, but he remembered the verbal exchanges between them, and one thing he had said stubbornly stuck in Peter's mind:

_"She's leaving you, Pan! She'd rather grow up then stay with you."_

Captain Hook, as a traditional bad guy, ended up doing everything wrong and losing his ship and life. But he, being a grown up, had gone through the whole process of teenage years and knew what it felt like. And he'd been right about Wendy, because she had left him, hadn't she? Left him to go back to her parents. Taking all of the others with her.

There was a flurry of movement near his head, and a faint chattering noise. Tink was back! What was she saying? Something about the Lost Boys…something they'd seen…

Some_one_.

**A/N:** So what'd you think?


	2. Chapter Two

Title: Acorn and Thimble

Author: Aspiring Shieldmaiden

Rating: PG-13

Book/Film: Peter Pan

Spoilers: If you haven't seen the film, there will be spoilers ahead.

Pairings: Peter/Wendy

Summary: Peter and Wendy still wear their thimble and acorn, respectively. But Wendy doesn't want to grow up and Peter wants her back…and Peter has a certain way of getting what he wants.

Chapter Updated: Friday 22nd October 2004

Disclaimer: None of this is mine except the plot.

…

Many thanks to my reviewers:

**hefalump: **Thanks!

**Pupetta: **Hope you like this!

**Zeldy: **I know! They'd be perfect for each other. But Peter wouldn't grow up…but what's Fanfiction for?

**babs08: **Keep reading!

**Tina: **Glad you're enjoying this!

**sarah: **Ooh…not quite… But it is _kind_ of correct…you'll just have to read ahead to see what I mean!

**kasmira36: **Enjoy!

**Uozumi: **I hope you keep on liking it!

**Lizzie Presscott: **I don't actually have a plot planned out now, but things should get underway soon. Because Wendy somehow has to get back to…and then…and after that… But I can't say! (Though the first '…' should be fairly obvious!)

**sparkling-teeth:** No, it's not Hook. He's dead and isn't going to come back. But it's someone you've met before. I thought Aunt Millicent was great in the film.

**Vela: **Thanks very much and keep up the wonderful reviews (they make me really happy!).

**Quiteona: **_A Black Family Reunion _is really good! Are you going to write more for it?

**Nethwen: **Hi! Please update _Opposites _soon. _looks bossy as glasses slide down nose _In the words of Commodore Norrington: THAT IS AN ORDER! **author** **begs** Urgh…school on Monday. I can't believe I have to waste my Saturday studying for French. I don't mind Biology, though, because the teacher is funny and she makes the subject interesting. See you on Monday!

…

**A/N: **Wow. **stares at computer screen** YOU GUYS RULE!!! This story was a complete spur-of-the-moment thing after I saw the movie and I wasn't expecting many people to tell me what they thought, much less like it. But you've inspired me. And a HUGE thank-you to those who put my story on their favourites!

On with the story!

Chapter Two

Wendy was dreaming…

_She was running through trees. The narrow path she was following led her through a dense mass of undergrowth and her nightdress kept getting caught on brambles, but she barely noticed them. Her mind was unfocused and she had no idea where she was going. But then again, the place was so peaceful, it did not occur to her to wonder about that._

_The sound of birdsong reached her ears. No…it was a kind of very faint tinkling. She frowned. There was no one here except her. _

_Yet the sound persisted, growing louder every few seconds. Still she could see nothing. Lightly, the girl trod on, sweeping her long brown hair out of her eyes. A faint scent of flowers hung in the air. There was nothing to spoil the tranquil atmosphere now – _

_Something rammed into the side of her head in a flurry of light and furious buzzing. It did it again, knocking her sideways off her feet. She cried out and tried to grab the thing, whatever it was, but it flew out of her reach, cackling with glee._

_"Who's that – TINK!"_

_Feeling cheated and angry, Tinkerbell let go of Wendy's hair and flew off, away from the pair of them. Peter bent down over her and tried to take her arm, for she looked oddly faint, like a flickering image._

_"Wendy?"_

Just as Peter's eyes widened in shocked recognition Wendy opened her eyes and shot up in bed.

"Peter!"

But the room was empty. A feeling of disappointment rose up in her chest. She had been so sure for a moment there that the dream was real she felt like laughing out loud. But now all she could see were the dark walls of her bedroom.

Throwing back her covers, she swung her feet over the side of the bed and padded across to the window. Dragging the heavy curtains aside, she stared up at the sky, trying to remember which star it was that Peter called his home. His words wouldn't come. It was as if her memories were vanishing along with the dream she'd just had.

One good thing about having her own room was the absence of her brothers. They didn't understand about her stories she told them – about Peter Pan. For they'd forgotten about Neverland, for them it was all just a sort of dream. She _had _tried asking Michael what he remembered, but the answer had been far from encouraging.

"Fairies?" A strange look crossed the little boy's face. "They don't exist, Wendy. Mother says so." Inside her head, the older girl had screamed, _You can't say that! You've seen them! You know they're real!_

The Lost Boys also had quite clearly forgotten who they were. "I can't remember no mermaids," Nibs said firmly, when Wendy asked him.

Eventually she realised that she would have to keep quiet or awkward questions might be asked. She might have to reveal who Peter was, and she rather enjoyed having this secret companion, even though she probably wouldn't see him again. It was odd, but sometimes she felt as if he was watching her. A shadow would linger at the corners of her eyes, vanishing the second she tried to get a closer look.

- - - - - -

Peter _did _watch her – she would have been surprised to know how much. He was planning to do it again the very day Tink reported the newcomer in the woods. He couldn't believe his Wendy was _here, _right here beside him, and he hadn't noticed. Well, almost. But he didn't want her to disappear like she had done. He wanted her to stay! But he didn't know where she was. She was no longer allowed to sleep in the nursery – he'd heard Mr Darling talking loudly about it to his wife ("I insist that she has her own room, Mary. The child is growing up now; you can't pretend it isn't happening. She must have privacy. Surely you see my point."). His heart clenched when he heard that. Even though he was ashamed to admit it to himself, Peter had grown very used to the idea that Wendy could solve anything. Well, he had proof, didn't he? She had been able to sew his Shadow back on. It had never got away since. But if Wendy grew up, there was no one left who could possibly understand about Make Believe. Peter knew Wendy hadn't forgotten about him because at night she would stare up into the heavens, his name on her lips.

So now his only option now was to arrive after hours and stay and spy on her in daylight. But it was much harder then, as lots of other people were always milling about and he could never get a proper view of her. His favourite haunts were the schoolroom and her house. She always looked so absorbed when she sat at her desk, but it wasn't her schoolwork she was so interested in. Sometimes when she lifted her head he caught glimpses of pictures she'd drawn – all of which seemed to depict a person lying in bed and another individual flying down to them.

No one else noticed. Wendy was very much in her own little world, the existence of all the others barely touching her. The teacher stalking the rows with her wooden cane had, on occasion, rapped her knuckles, making her gasp with pain and surprise and Peter snarl up in the rafters (that was odd, too – he never felt much sympathy when the punishment was inflicted on anyone _else_) – but he doubted whether the teacher actually knew what Wendy was doing.

She sat at the desk at the very back right-hand corner. The room was shadowy here and sometimes Peter would creep down the wall, hand over hand, trying to keep himself small, and he would balance there and simply observe.

Tink jabbered away beside him, clearly angry. "Why is SHE here? I don't want her here, Peter!" Now, please remember that fairies are so small that they can only handle one emotion at a time. Peter gritted his teeth and ignored her. If he did that for long enough, she might just flounce off again and leave him alone. In case you're wondering, he has forgotten the grief he experienced when Tink died after drinking Hook's poison.

He also, as stated above, watched Wendy in her home. He hid in the semi-darkness of the dusk and watched as she wondered from room to room, quite lost for something to occupy herself with. When morning came, he liked the way she always plaited her hair, smiling at her reflection in the mirror when the task was finished.

And you can imagine his reaction when he watched Aunt Millicent's attempts to tutor Wendy in what she called the "female arts". Well, actually, his reactions were mixed. Sometimes he was cheering and sniggering at the older woman, while at others he muttered furiously at her. What was she _doing, _forcing Wendy to act like that? But something odd happened when she instructed Wendy during dancing lessons, enlisting the reluctant help of one of her brothers. He would stare at her, mesmerised, as she twirled about, ignoring the annoyed wails of her partner. His eyes never left her face, which always looked bored, as if she'd rather be anywhere else…

He stopped suddenly, startling Tink, who took this as a motive to try and offend her and flew off in a rage. Peter raised his eyebrows at her retreating form and shrugged. She'd be back soon, and she would act as though nothing had happened.

Well, this time, something would have.

The boy paused, debating with himself.

He _could_ go and bring Wendy back.

No – she might have grown up too much. Maybe he just hadn't noticed.

That was stupid, he thought angrily. _I'd have known if she had!_

It would certainly be nice to have her back here…though he wasn't quite sure why.

And he was wanted company. This must be what "being lonely" meant, a Feeling he heard grown-ups talk when they travelled about in the streets.

And Tink, now that she'd run off, couldn't stop him.

Yes. He was going

…

**A/N: **Hmmm…Peter has it bad, doesn't he? Even though of course he doesn't know it yet. Please review and tell me what you think!


	3. Chapter Three

Title: Acorn and Thimble

Author: Aspiring Shieldmaiden

Rating: PG-13

Book/Film: Peter Pan

Spoilers: If you haven't seen the film, there will be spoilers ahead.

Pairings: Peter/Wendy

Summary: Peter and Wendy still wear their respective thimble and acorn. But Wendy doesn't want to grow up, the "no adults allowed" rule in Neverland is breaking out of Peter's control, and Peter wants her back…and Peter has a certain way of getting what he wants.

Chapter Updated: Tuesday 28th December 2004

Disclaimer: None of this is mine, except the plot.

…

Many thanks to:

**Ryuu no Taiyo: **Thanks so much for putting BOTH of my Peter Pan stories onto your Favourites list and I hope you enjoy this! **pleads** …Can I keep my head?

**Stardrops: **Aww, thanks! I loved the film too! You know, after the kiss, I thought Peter was going to grow up—seeing as how he went really red, obviously a child wouldn't react that way, but no. Still, what am I on Fanfiction for…?

**J-R-S CRAZY: **Thanks for putting this story on your Favourites! It really makes me happy when someone does that.:)

**bLuEhEaVeN79: **Thank you!

**Saralisa:** It should get more exciting soon…because Peter's coming back! Keep reading!

**Sanqami: **Thanks! Hope you like this!

**Lizzie Presscott: **He's bringing her back soon, read on!

**Nethwen: **Hi! Enjoy watching _The Incredibles. _It's hilarious.Thanks for reviewing!

**KenshinRulz: **Enjoy!

**Zorrina: snicker** He does. So does she. **sigh** But first I'll have to go through the painstaking business of making them realise it…oh well. Read on!

**kasmira36: **He'll be doing something soon. Thanks!

**SinfulColours: **Hope you like this chapter!

YAY!!! Thank you for those cool reviews!

And off we go…

Chapter Three

Wendy sat in the classroom, patiently finishing her work. She had abandoned drawing today, as yesterday had turned out to be one of those occasions when she left the school biting her lip to keep the tears in, massaging her flaming knuckles. It certainly wasn't her place to complain when Mother and Father were paying for her education, she knew that very well, but why, _why, _had she ended up with the strictest teacher?

The other girls were no help either. Perhaps it was just her being discreditable, but Wendy was fairly certain she knew where they were going to end up. In a large, well-furnished house, true, but shut away from the world with men they didn't love. Truly un-independent, because it was pretty much unheard of for women to go anywhere unescorted. The only couple she had met who had at least _partly _married for love were her own parents.

Her corner had been quiet today. It usually was, but she was sure she'd not been alone, sometimes in these past few weeks. Once, she had been pretty positive that she'd glimpsed the merest glimmer of a shadow. A few times strange thoughts chased each other through her brain, and the clear memory of the only person she had ever known to act like this cropped up.

But Peter couldn't be here _now._ No matter how many times she dreamed about him, they couldn't make the truth any less real. He was never coming back. He'd made that very clear at their last meeting. Neverland was all he'd ever wanted; Tinkerbell was there to look after him. And, knowing some of the troubles that went on in her world, Wendy felt he had a point. There, he was safe from all of those.

- - - - - -

It was harder then he'd anticipated to get rid of Tink. She came back sooner than expected, fluttering prettily around him in the hope he might forgive her.

"Peter! Talk to me, Peter. PLEASE!"

He ignored her. It was quite difficult at first, for she tried all sorts of tactics to get his attention – flying around his head, pulling his hair, tweaking his nose (though how she thought that last one was going to work, he wasn't quite sure) before screaming loudly. However, that one failed as well as he just threw her away. She sent him one last hurt look before zooming off. Peter watched her go, frowning slightly. He hadn't meant to be _that _harsh, and this feeling was new to him as well. It was deeply unsettling.

He shook it off, and leapt into the air. The afternoon sun was setting as he took to the skies, forgetting Tink in the familiar joy of flying. He was going…going…_gone._

- - - - - -

"Mother, _must_ we go to the party?" Wendy asked, pulling at a tendril of hair.

Mrs Darling looked around at her daughter. "Yes."

"But…" Wendy paused, not sure how to continue. Then she started again. "But why?"

"Your father has some people he wishes for you to meet. Your aunt agrees, and so do I." She paused. Then, gently, "We aren't forcing you to grow up, Wendy."

"Why do people grow up?" Wendy wondered aloud – not expecting an answer.

Mrs Darling thought about that. "I don't know," she said finally. "Nobody does. But it is a good thing."

"Do children know that?"

Mrs Darling frowned. "Not when they're young. But it becomes clearer when you grow older, if you let it."

She saw her daughter's eyes widen as she took in the last sentence, before Wendy turned away to examine the darkening sky.

"Let's do your hair," Mrs Darling continued, beckoning. Wendy wondered over almost absent-mindedly. _Dreamy_-looking, if the older woman didn't know better. Why was that? Ever since Wendy's return a year ago from that place called 'Neverland', the girl she had known as her daughter had slipped away. There was no more talk of writing novels about adventures. As we've already said, Wendy had become less sociable, withdrawn.

And now, for the first time ever, she was to accompany her mother to one of these dances that had caused her to be absent the night Wendy had met Peter.

She slipped on the high-heeled shoes while her mother fussed over stray strands, arranging them into exactly the right place. Finally, she bade her to look at herself properly.

When Wendy saw her reflection in the mirror, she let out a gasp.

She couldn't recognise herself at all.

It wasn't that she was displeased with the result. She _was. _Her brown hair had been pulled into a style now referred to as 'half-back', leaving the rest flowing down over her shoulders. Her mother had also placed a circlet of pearls around her head. Her dress was made pf fine deep blue silk, and a golden necklace, with a small ruby set into it. But under all this finery, Wendy could hardly breathe, due to the horribly tight corset Mrs Darling had insisted she start to wear.

"Every girl wears one," her mother had said firmly, when Wendy had started to protest. "It is part of growing up."

And now, when she saw herself in the glass, it was true; she couldn't see the little girl in her image at all.

_She's still there, _she told herself sternly. _She's not…_gone.

But the longer she stood there, the harder she found it to believe.

- - - - - -

Peter's mood could not have been more different. He soared in and out of the clouds, loving the way the cool night air brushed against his skin. _This _was quite possibly why he had decided not to follow Wendy last time. Why would he want to go back to that miserable-looking world that was constantly dripping wet with rain and strange cold white stuff? (He has forgotten about snow.)

But he had promised Wendy he would come back. And Peter Pan doesn't forget a promise, strangely enough. It's the one thing he actually remembers. Unless, that is, he forgets about the person who he made the promise to. And he had enough memories of Wendy—one, incidentally, is particularly strong, A nice one. Though he isn't quite sure why.

Somewhere below him bells sounded. Looking down he saw the clock was striking eight in the evening. Carriages were trundling though the streets and there seemed to be lots of people strolling along. Lots of ladies in fancy dresses—though they weren't nearly as nice as the ones the fairies wore, which were long, white and sparkling. These were somehow…uglier. As though the wearers had had to be squeezed into them. And they were all strangely wrinkled. What he didn't know, of course, was that the dresses were supposed to be like that—the so-called "new fashion" was for women to wear dresses with pleated skirts. And the women's waists looked as though they'd been forced inwards. Which they had.

Flying lower, he glided silently above the rooftops. Wendy's house wasn't far. In fact, he realised it must be just a few streets away, if his memory of this place was correct.

It was. Directly below him was the window that looked into the nursery. He'd looked in time and time again. But there wasn't only the three of them in there—Wendy and…well, her two brothers. But now the Lost Boys were all in there too. And Wendy had moved out after a while, so there wasn't anyone there for him to listen to.

Just then, the front door opened. Squinting, Peter could _just _make out the forms of a group of three people. The first to step out were clearly a married couple. He watched for a few seconds as the man took the lady's hand to help her down the steps. Why was he doing that? She could just have easily managed it herself, he thought, annoyed for some reason.

Behind them, a girl walked with her head slightly bent. She had long dark brown hair, which was spread across her shoulders, and another one of those strange tight dresses. No pleated skirt, however. This was an improvement. In fact, she looked like one of those dolls he'd seen strewn across beds. Only much, much prettier.

But he didn't recognise her.

One of the adults that had walked ahead looked back and called to her to come with them. For a split second she looked up. Peter caught a glimpse of deep blue eyes set in a pale face.

- - - - - -

"Wendy, come on!" her mother said encouragingly. She offered Wendy her other arm. Wendy blinked, and looked back down at the ground in front of her. Why didn't she want to go? Most girls would _love_ to go to a dance like this. She heard them going on about it in school. The dresses they'd wear, the shoes they'd have made… But Wendy didn't want to go at all.

The others at school had found out, and they were all, for reasons unknown to her, extremely jealous. They'd cast envying looks over at her, saying to each other, "I wish my mother would let _me _go." Every time Wendy longed to shout _Why won't you take my place? I don't even understand how I'm supposed to act at all!_

But of course she couldn't. And that's how she came to be here on this cold night, trudging half-heartedly after her parents in her beautiful dress.

- - - - - -

Peter froze in midair, causing him to plummet several feet before managing to stay upright.

He recognised that face.

That was _Wendy._

But she didn't look like he remembered her at all. She'd done something to her hair. And the excited look in her eyes had vanished. There was…sadness there instead. And (if he'd been able to recognise it and know what the word meant) boredom. Wendy was dragging her feet. Dragging her feet towards a destination, which he thought—at least, from what he'd heard from those times he'd stayed on through daylight—most girls actually liked. He'd picked up on what was happening in the schoolroom. But he hadn't really understood about the thing called a "dance", the ones he'd looked in on didn't look anything like it did when the fairies held one. Then, the air was full of excitement, and little bursts of golden light filled the woods. But when one was held here, all that took place was pairs of people standing in two long lines facing each other, performing complicated steps.

- - - - - -

It was warm and overcrowded once they entered the ballroom. Men and women were swarming across the floor like flies, greeting each other, exchanging gossip: "Supposedly the girl's father is very ill." – "That dress the woman is wearing is absolutely—" Suddenly the woman in question walked up to greet the speakers, and their tone shifted entirely. "Why, Mrs McIntyre, that dress is absolutely _wonderful_." Wendy had a look at her clothing as she watched this particular discussion. Mrs McIntyre had very pale skin, yet had obviously seen fit to wear a dress in a hideous shade of pale yellow.

Then her mother gave her a discreet poke in the back. "Don't stare. It's not considered polite." Mrs McIntyre suddenly turned and headed towards them. Wendy saw Mrs Darling's smile become oddly fixed for a second before she regained her composure just as the other woman reached them.

"Why, good evening, Mr and Mrs Darling." Mrs McIntyre was one of those unlucky individuals that have an extremely loud, penetrating voice. She was also one of those who is never disobeyed or questioned. For a few moments polite conversation about topics such as the weather ensued. Then McIntyre turned her attention to Wendy.

"And who is this little one?"

Mrs Darling looked slightly flustered. "T – this is our daughter, Wendy." She raised her eyebrows at her and Wendy hastily attempted something resembling such a thing.

Mrs McIntyre raised her eyebrows. "And how old are you, Miss Wendy?" Her tone was condescending. Wendy stared right back at her.

"Fourteen, ma'am."

"Fourteen?" Now the eyebrows were raised. "I always thought it unwise to let girls as young as yourself out in society. But I see that some do not share my opinion." She took a sip of her glass of wine.

Mrs Darling hastily tried to rectify the awkward situation. "Oh no, Wendy is not 'out', you are mistaken. My husband and I merely brought her along so that she might—"

"Yes, yes, Mrs Darling. I see you did not take my advice where that one—" she jerked her head in Wendy's general direction "—was concerned." She let out a sniff, somehow to make that reek of disapproval as well. "I'm quite put out."

She swept off. Wendy looked up at her mother, whose facial expression was unreadable. Twisting her head, she saw her father returning carrying drinks for them both.

"Who was that?" he asked. Wendy took her glass with some misgivings; she'd never actually tried wine before. But hers had been watered down, and when she took a sip, the stuff wasn't as vile as she'd expected. Still, she didn't like it. There was a burning sensation in her throat. Mrs Darling peered anxiously at her.

"Wendy? Are you feeling unwell?" Her mother took her hand. "Perhaps a spell outside will do you some good. Come with me."

They were quite unnoticed as they slipped out, apart from informing her father about were they were going.

It was pleasantly cool outside. Mrs Darling's cheeks were pink as she fanned herself quickly.

All too soon they heard voices calling. A second later, George appeared, panting.

"Mrs McIntyre wishes to speak to you," he said regretfully. "She requests you come immediately."

Mary sighed. "Stay here," she told her daughter. "I'll come and fetch you."

Within seconds they had disappeared, leaving Wendy alone with nothing for company except the rustling bushes.

- - - - - -

Peter had followed them all, of course, keeping out of sight in the shadows, as per usual. He'd seen Wendy and her parents enter the building, but from then on, he'd lost track of them. Where, exactly, was he supposed to start? There were at least a hundred windows in the building. He'd wasted at least half an hour looking through at all the rooms on the lower floors.

And then, by complete coincidence, he saw Wendy and her mother come out. As quietly as possible, he'd flown over to follow…at a safe distance. The whole time they'd been talking, he'd been concealed behind bushes. Skill learned in scheming against Hook came in useful. But it was not exactly what you'd call comfortable, surrounded by thorn-covered branches.

There was the sound of the adults leaving; then the sound of Wendy's dress rustling in the wind. She was completely alone.

He's entirely too ashamed to admit it, but for a few seconds Peter wondered if it might have been better if he'd never come at all. The truth of the matter is that he's _nervous. _You know why.

He was just tilting his head to get a better view of her when, well, a thorn got in the way. He nearly got poked in the eye with it, in actual fact. This caused him to stumble…causing the bushes to creak.

Wendy's eyes snapped towards him, slightly fearful. It was too late.

He'd have to come out now.

- - - - - -

**A/N: **What did you think? R&R!


	4. Chapter Four

Title: Thimble and Acorn

Author: Aspiring Shieldmaiden

Rating: PG-13

Book/Film: Peter Pan

Spoilers: If you haven't seen the film there will be spoilers ahead.

Pairings: Peter/Wendy

Summary: Peter and Wendy still wear their respective thimble and acorn. But Wendy doesn't want to grow up, the "no adults allowed" rule is breaking out of Peter's control and Peter wants her back…and Peter has a certain way of getting what he wants.

Chapter Updated: Thursday 19th May 2005

Disclaimer: None of this is mine except the plot.

Many thanks to:

**Zeldy: **She definitely saw something. Read on!

**shero003: **Thanks!

**Karaniya-broken: **Well… the fact that he's stubborn, and he has an unrivalled ability to wreak havoc if Wendy stays at home with her parents. So she doesn't have much choice but to go with him…

**Koda-san: **Thanks for putting my story on your favourites. :) Good luck with your Peter Pan fic!

**Sweet Stephy: **Thanks!

**Ryuu no Taiyou: **Hope you like this! **smiles hopefully** …Can I keep my head?

**Chiruken: **Corsets sound _horrible…_ **shudders** Peter will be coming out of the thorny bush soon. Thanks for putting my story on Favourites!

**Wander Aimlessly: **Please read on! What do you think?

**Zorrina: **Yeah, it must have. But the compensation is that he'll see Wendy again. Thanks!

**Alyssa: **Thanks! Keep reading!

**Stardrops:** Thanks for reviewing - here it is!

**kasmira36: **Yes, THEY are going to meet again. I'm really looking forward to writing that part!

**Uozumi: **Thanks for adding this to your Favourites! **does little dance** I'm feeling really happy now.

**longblacksatinlace: **Read on! Thanks for putting this on Favourites.

**Elirrina: **Enjoy!

And I'm sorry it took me such a long time to update. I've seriously had no inspiration for months. That is the only excuse I can offer.

* * *

Chapter Four

"I left her outside," Mrs Darling said to her husband. "I'm sure all she needs is a breath of fresh air."

"Mary …"

"Yes?"

"You honestly think she will grow up?"

"Yes. Of course she will. Honestly, George, _you _were the one who brought this up before." The music started up again. She held out her hand. "Now, are you going to ask me to dance, or will I have to lead myself out there?"

"Oh, right …" Mr Darling had forgotten this part. Smiling, he led her somewhat awkwardly through all the swirling dancers. Really, this made it much more worth coming.

* * *

Wendy was staring at the bushes in horror. Normally, she would have just thought it was the wind rustling the leaves. But there was definitely a dark shape blundering around. It crashed through the green mass sputtering and coughing.

Her first impulse was to turn and run, but there wasn't anywhere she could go without them catching up to her. Besides, something seemed oddly familiar about this person, whoever they were, and she couldn't quite place it.

Someone was lying facedown on the ground now, completely rigid. It was a boy of about her own age with light brown curly hair … and a somewhat odd outfit. And blue eyes were staring up at her, full of confusion. And they were, just like before, full of tears.

"Why are you crying?" she asked gently, dropping down to be on his level. There was something nagging at the back of her mind. It had to be something about the smile … or maybe it was the hair …

"What is your name?" she said, trying to get something out of him.

""What's _your_ name?" Good, he'd said something. They were getting somewhere.

"Wendy Moira Angela Darling," she replied, smiling prettily, as if her aunt were glaring at her.

Now there was a sharp flicker of something like … _confirmation_? … in his eyes.

"Wendy?"

_Now _she had it.

* * *

Peter watched the girl stare at him, feeling all his certainties crumble away. This couldn't be Wendy at all, it just couldn't. This was some elegantly dressed girl from a different family—one that made their daughters walk all funny, as if they were permanently taking tiny measured breaths. You definitely couldn't fly in such clothes.

And he was crying because he'd just been poked in the eye. Not for any other reason. Couldn't she work that out? _Wendy _would have been able to. But not this girl.

But now she was smiling hesitantly, as if she didn't recognise him. Well, he didn't see why he should have to tell her, seeing as she was some complete stranger. And she'd answered him, giving some stupidly long version of hers—what mother would give a child four names? He only had two. He only _needed _two.

And as she leaned forward so as to hear him better, something swung forward at her neck. A small acorn on a string.

He frowned. He recognised acorns like that—they had them at home. Tink liked to collect them for him, coming back with a small pile every so often. He'd given Wendy one—because, he remembered, she'd wanted a kiss—but he didn't think she would still be wearing it.

"Wendy?" Oops. He hadn't meant to say it, because this wasn't Wendy … was it? But she _did _look like Wendy, and she sounded like her.

She looked confused for a second, and then an expression of heartfelt delight spread over her features.

"_Peter!"_

Well, who else would it be?

* * *

The band had stopped playing, and Wendy was still not back inside. Mr and Mrs Darling headed outside to look. She'd been left down by the bushes. Mrs Darling made her husband go down and look around the other side of the building, if she had gone for a walk, and maybe couldn't find her way back. Her mother knew perfectly well Wendy would not have ventured far at all, but she was almost sure something had changed. She couldn't say exactly what, but _something_ was definitely different.

She could see the skirt of her daughter's dress swishing as Wendy walked slowly backwards and forwards, as if she were trying to decide something.

* * *

Peter hadn't really known what to do when Wendy hugged him. Hid first thought was that he was suffocating because she was holding him so tight. But he hadn't wanted to make her let go because she was smiling happily, all trace of sadness gone.

"You came back …" she was saying.

He nodded.

"I hoped you would, but …"

"Of course I did. I said I would. Anyway," he said, looking at her with approval. Now the smile was back, she didn't look nearly as grown up. Good.

"But …" She was looking a little ashamed now. "I thought you'd forgotten."

"I _told _you I wouldn't forget!"

Neither of them said anything for a moment. Then …

"Wendy," Peter said very quietly.

"Mmn?" she asked.

"Do you _want _to come back?"

"Yes!"

His spirits rose. But then she said, "But what about Mother and Father and the Lost Boys and my brothers, Peter? I can't leave them behind."

Truth be told, he has no idea who most of these people are. The Lost Boys as a group sound vaguely familiar, but he can't remember their names. And he doesn't really care, as I've said. But Wendy seemed to care, so he said, "They can't come with us …"

She seemed to have been expecting that. "I know."

Just then, the sound of someone coming towards them, caused Wendy to look up. Her mother was standing there, staring at Peter, and at the hand that was holding her daughter's. He leapt into the air before she had a chance to pull Wendy away … and she was pulled up too.

Wendy's heart felt as light as her hands as she rose swiftly upwards, Peter leading her, his laughter ringing though the air. They sped away, until the sight of her mother's face and sound of her pleading cries were lost, her form becoming smaller and smaller until it was no more than a speck, before vanishing completely.

But Wendy wasn't paying attention to any of that. She felt as if she were going home.

* * *

**A/N: **I'm not sure if I liked that last scene, but please tell me what you think!


End file.
